Generally, when someone does something stupid it can be referred to as “Pulling a Nicole.”

The Big Guy rarely does stupid things and I do stupid things, um…with astounding regularity.

Last week while we were on vacation (which I’ll totally tell you about when I have a second to upload pics and unpack some underwear…we just got home) he had one of his rare “Nicole” moments.

We spent a lovely day at Funtasia. (Aside: My pictures are way better than the one on that site, and holy crap is that a bad website. Terrible! In this day and age, that can’t even be called a website. Anyway…) So, yeah. We spent a lovely day at Funtasia and as we were leaving I was struggling to hold Bella, my Ergo, my camera and my cell-phone holder. I finally dropped my cell phone holder (a fab little mini-purse that holds my phone, ID, a few cards and a bit of cash, eliminating the need for lugging a purse in addition to all my other crap) and my chivalrous (hah!) husband picked it up for me with an “I’ve got it” and took it to the van for me. We each buckled in a child on our respective sides of the van and headed off for our villa to barbecue supper. (Do you call it supper or dinner?) With the kids still bucked, we began to gather our plethora of crap and the BG asked “Do you have your cell phone?”

“No,” I replied. “You took it from me and I’m not sure where you put it.”

“Ummm, I think we need to go back. I think I left it on the roof of the van.”

He felt absolutely sick about it, not only because we he had potentially lost my prized phone but because we’re really broke and can’t afford to replace it. Also, there was almost $100 cash in it – my entire fun-fund for the holiday.

We drove the few kilometres from our villa parking lot back to the entrance to Funtasia, all the while watching the opposing lane and shoulder for any sign of a black leather case or a sparkly red phone. As we were turning into the parking lot, we spotted it just back from the highway. The BG jumped out of the car and grabbed it. He held it up, seemingly torn apart and empty. “Well, that didn’t take long. It’s empty.” It had literally been six or seven minutes since we had driven away with it on top of the van.

Within seconds, though, he had found my key ring (which held my van key – I was using his – and the key to our villa – which had the villa number engraved right on it – hello, 1975 called and it wants its key back) and the battery cover from my cell phone. When I finally was able to pry the torn up zipper open, I saw that every penny of my cash was still there. We never did recover the rest of the phone. It appears that it had fallen off our roof as I accelerated onto the highway and whoever left behind us ran over it, tearing up the case and crushing the phone.

So I’m down a phone, but I’m home safe with all my people. I’m not mad at all, and I never was. I’m just glad that it wasn’t me…for once.